Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 38

Krupov led Dmitry into a classroom. A large room with tall windows, long tables with benches along the walls, pictures with letters and numbers on the walls, maps of Russia and Europe. About twenty children sat at the tables – boys aged eight to twelve in simple shirts and vests.

“Children!” Krupov said loudly, entering the classroom. “Meet Dmitry Sergeevich. Starting tomorrow he will help me teach you.”

The children turned to Dmitry and stared with curiosity. Some smiled, others looked doubtfully.

“Hello, children,” said Dmitry, feeling slight nervousness.

“Hello, Dmitry Sergeevich!” the children answered in unison, standing up from their places.

*They stood up,* Dmitry was surprised. *They showed respect to the teacher. In the twenty-first century students don’t behave like that.*

“Today we have a lesson in penmanship,” said Krupov. “Dmitry Sergeevich, would you like to show the children how to write properly?”

Dmitry approached the board. He took chalk – thick, white, leaving a dense mark. He wrote several sentences in beautiful handwriting (in university he’d specifically studied old-fashioned writing for archive work):

“Learning is light, and ignorance is darkness, as Suvorov himself said”

“Patience and labor overcome all”

The children watched in admiration.

“Oh, how beautifully you write!” exclaimed a round-faced boy with a snub nose.

“Will you teach me?” asked a girl with long braids.

*A girl?* Dmitry was surprised. *Krupov teaches girls too? That was rare in the nineteenth century.*

Krupov noticed his surprise and explained:

“I believe girls have as much right to education as boys. Not everyone understands this nowadays, but I hope with time everything will change.”

*A progressive man,* Dmitry thought with respect. *In the nineteenth century that took courage.*

The lesson continued. Dmitry walked between the rows, watching how the children carefully traced letters in their notebooks. He helped those who were struggling, corrected mistakes, praised successes.

*Strange,* he thought. *I’ve never worked with children. But I like it. They’re so open, sincere, trusting. Not like adults in the twenty-first century – cynical, closed off, suspicious.*

After the lesson, one boy – the smallest, about seven or eight years old, with big eyes and thin arms – approached him shyly:

“Dmitry Sergeevich, will you really be teaching us?”

“Yes, I will,” Dmitry smiled.

“Are you kind?” the boy asked with childish directness.

“I’ll try to be kind,” Dmitry answered.

“Will you not hit us with a ruler? The old teacher used to hit when we made mistakes.”

*Hit with a ruler,* Dmitry’s heart sank. *Yes, corporal punishment in schools was normal in the nineteenth century.*

“No,” Dmitry said firmly. “I will never hit you. I promise.”

The boy brightened:

“Really? That’s good! Then I’ll try hard to study well!”

He ran off to his friends, and Dmitry heard him say happily:

“He said he won’t hit! He’s kind!”

*Kind,* Dmitry repeated to himself. *Here that’s the main word. Not smart, not successful, not efficient – but kind. Maybe they’re right?*

***